


In the Shadows (of Who We Used to Be)

by BrenH



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: I did my best, M/M, alternate universe: spies, black widow and hawkeye au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 08:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7794004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenH/pseuds/BrenH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Hawkeye.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“You can call me by my name you know”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Roy, if this is the Black Widow, then the best option would be for you to take him out.”</i>
</p><p>Or the one where Roy Harper is sent to investigate a death that may or may not be tied to the infamous Black Widow, and the one where the mission doesn’t go as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadows (of Who We Used to Be)

Roy pulls his collar up to the cold wind and shoves his hands back in his pockets as he walks along the side street. He keeps his head down as he makes his way to the hotel he was staying at, keeping his eyes open for anyone following him. He didn’t like being in foreign countries, and he especially didn’t like being sent to foreign countries alone to do jobs he wasn’t fully invested in. But Oliver needed someone to look into this and, as shit as their relationship could be, deep down Roy still wanted to please his old partner.

Roy checks in to the hotel and glances behind him as he makes his way to the stairwell. He climbs up to the second floor, pausing every now and then to check for the sound of footsteps behind him. When he’s sure no one is following him he enters his room and dumps his bags on the bed.

He pulls out the small toolbox he brought with him and his phone and heads back to the door, dialing Ollie’s number as he goes. He opens the door, peeking around the corners to make sure there’s no one milling about on the floor to see him work. He doesn’t want to have to answer the questions he’d get.

Roy has already got one screw out of the latch plate on the door’s lock when Oliver finally picks up. “Hawkeye.”

Roy readjusts the phone pinned between his shoulder and cheek as he continues working. He had almost hoped Ollie wouldn’t pick up. “You can call me by my name you know. I do _have_ one.”

A sigh on the other end. “I know, Roy. Are you reading the files right now?”

“I read them on the plane ride. If you want me to read them while we talk you’ll have to give a moment. I’m replacing the screws in the door latches with longer ones. Make it harder for anyone to kick the door down.” Roy knows he’s rambling, but talking to Oliver makes him anxious sometimes, and when he’s anxious he rambles or fidgets depending on which one he isn’t currently doing.

“No, it’s fine. The death I need you to investigate is of a former contact, Vladimir Vasiliev. Last I heard he was investigating the Bratva.”

Roy finishes installing the screws and shuts the door. “You think the Russian mafia is behind his death?” Roy fishes the unfortunately slim file Oliver had given to him on the murder before he sent him off to Russia out of his bag and sits down on the bed.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked you to check this out for me.” Roy feels like saying that Ollie “asked him” to do this is a bit of an understatement, but he lets him continue without comment. “The m.o. is consistent with numerous murders across Europe and the US. The first of its kind originated in Russia, and now the killer has returned.”

“So there’s an international killer on the loose who’s shooting people in the head and burning down whatever building the bodies are found in, but you’re only worrying about it now that an ex buddy is dead?” Roy purses his lips as he looks at the file, but presses his eyes closed tightly as he hears a deep intake of breath on the other side of the line. “I’m not judging you,” he hurries to continue, “just… sayin’.”

The line is silent for a moment. “You’re not entirely wrong. Anyway, I’ve heard rumors that this is the doing of the Black Widow. Not entirely sure, but that’s up to you to figure out.”

Roy hums as he flips through the file again before pulling out the second one labeled Black Widow. “So what? This is a subdue and extract gig?” The line goes silent again, and Roy tenses. “Ollie?”

“Roy, if this is the Black Widow,” he’s speaking slowly, as if he’s afraid of Roy’s reaction to what he’s about to say, “then the best option would be for you to take him out.”

“Oliver-”

“I’m serious, Roy. The Black Widow is dangerous. Hell, I’m not even entirely sure he exists. And he works quickly; you won’t have much time before he leaves Russia to take on another job, if he’s even still there. There’s no room to subdue and extract, you’ll have to take him out before he takes you out.”

Roy sighs heavily. “Understood. I’ll talk to you if I find anything else out.” He hangs up shortly after.

Roy hates missions like these. He does them, but he’d much rather just _not_ kill people. And he’d _especially_ like to know the kind of mission he was being sent on before he got there, but this is Ollie, and he can’t hope for too much from him.

It’s getting late, and soon enough it’ll be dark enough for him to sneak into the warehouse where Oliver’s buddy was found to scope it out. Maybe get a few hints to who did it. He wishes Dick were here, he’s always been the better detective.

Roy’s heard of the Black Widow before, but only vaguely. Black Widow was supposedly some incredible spy and assassin, responsible for who knows how many hits, but the only kills traceable back to him were where the m.o. was the same in essence; bullet to the head and building burned down. It was impossible to say whether or not it was a single person or if the rumor got out and other criminals started copying the basics of it though: most of the time the bullet was a 9mm, but other times it wasn’t. Usually the victim was shot execution style in the back of the head, other times it was the forehead, between the eyes, once it seems the victim had been shot through the mouth, and the fire was what really did them in. Some people said he was a Russian since the first possible victim was found in Moscow, others say he must be an American to act so brashly, but from what Roy had seen and heard, there was no consensus on anything to do with him, some even argued that Black Widow was in fact a _she_. The only thing that anyone could agree about when it came to the Black Widow was that they were doing incredibly well for themselves in spite of the few years they’d been in action, and that the trial by fire m.o. was indicative of their only kills.

Roy shrugs his suit on as he mulls over what little he knows. In the end, it doesn’t really matter who or what this Black Widow is, a job is a job. Roy hops out onto the veranda, makes sure no one is in the alley he’s facing, and then scales down to the street level. He keeps to the alley ways when he can, and climbs to the rooftops when he must, all the way to the warehouse where Ollie’s friend was found.

Roy watches the empty warehouse from afar, waiting to see if any other police would be making rounds. There weren’t many and none of them seemed to care that this was an active crime scene even though the man died only a few days ago.

Roy wasn’t entirely sure what he was hoping to find here. If the police here were good at their jobs they would’ve collected most of the evidence, and it would definitely be contaminated at this point. Roy makes his way through the gap in the guards’ patrol and shivers as he enters the burned husk of the warehouse. The insides of his arms start to tingle, and the faded track marks itch under his suit. The building may be a burned out husk, but it still resembles all the places he’d crash during his bad years.

Roy slowly wanders around the building, finding nothing but ashes. He supposes that that’s why the Black Widow burns the buildings down: to get rid of the evidence.

“You know, trespassing is illegal.”

Roy tenses, pulling out an arrow to notch in his bow as he spins to face and aim at the intruder. Intruder? _He_ was an intruder too.

The man before him was wearing a black leather jacket and gloves, his hands held out in front of him. He had black hair with a white streak running through it and no mask on. He’s in his early twenties at the latest. “What are you doing here?”

He grins and raises an eyebrow. “What are _you_ doing here, _saharok_?” He has a slight Russian accent, but less like he’s a native and more like he’s lived here for a while. “You’re an American, what interest do you have here?”

“A man died.” Roy responds evenly.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here. No self respecting policeman would dress like that.” Roy purses his lips slightly at the jab. “And who carries a bow around anyway? Who are you supposed to be, Robin Hood?”

“The name’s Hawkeye, and you still haven’t told me why you’re here either, or who you are.”

The man’s features twitch at Roy’s name, but he quickly returns to a neutral expression and says nothing. The two stand there in silence and Roy has to let his arms fall. He can only hold a bow and arrow up for so long before his arms start to feel like noodles. “You’re investigating the death of Vladimir Vasiliev, yeah? Don’t bother, from what I’ve heard about him he was working with the mafia and was a part of other... _unsavory_ businesses.”

“And how do you know this?”

The man shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It isn’t exactly difficult information to get your hands on. You can ask anyone in the know for practically anything and Vlad could set you up with it.”

Just when Roy was about to ask the man to specify more, gunshots rang out, the sound echoing in the husk of a building. Roy tries to turn towards the sounds, barely ducking as a bullet goes whizzing by his head. He vaguely notices the man he’d been talking to earlier slightly leaning to the side to avoid a bullet with only the slightest bit of annoyance written on his face. Roy lets loose an arrow, sinking deep into the arm of one of their assailants. He drops his gun and Roy takes aim at another one. He’s quick to take the second down, even as he watches a couple more crumple to the ground. He glances at the man standing next to him. His face is bored, even as he shoots at the men with a gun that Roy didn’t notice him pull from anywhere.

The men that had been running at them are all on the floor, but the sound of gunshots are still approaching from all sides, and the sound of an engine is following.

“C’mon, we need to go before they all get here,” the man says, pulling on the arm holding Roy’s bow.

Roy considers arguing; he could probably take them out, especially if this man stayed by his side to help out. He doesn’t know who these people are, though this man seems to and he’s a lot stronger than he looks. Roy stands there for a moment longer before pressing the button on his bow to compact it and turning on his heel to follow the man out of the warehouse. Roy isn’t sure where he’s going, or if he should really trust this stranger, but he seems to know where to go and Roy gets the sense that he’s being expected to follow.

They twist and turn down dark alleys and backstreets until they make it to what looks like a shady motel that Roy wouldn’t even trust the carpet in. The man procures a key from his leather jacket and walks up to one of the rooms. Roy follows, glancing around the parking lot for anyone who may need to be shut up. He sees no one overtly suspicious, just a lone man watching hungrily as the two walk into the motel room. Roy grimances.

“Not the nicest place, but it’ll do until things calm down a bit,” the man says, locking the door behind Roy. The man walks over to the other side of the motel room where a bag is lying on the table and fiddles around for a few moments.

Roy is still on alert. He doesn’t trust this man, wants to go back to his hotel room to process and sort through what little information he has, maybe call Ollie up and share. Instead he watches the taller man from across the room, still holding his compressed bow with his other hand hovering discreetly over the small quiver at his hip.

“So, _Hawkeye_. That’s not your name,” the man says conversationally and Roy grits his teeth at how casually he’s acting.

“It’s _a_ name, and besides you never gave me one to begin with.”

The man hums, finally turning to face him. Roy watches his hands as he leans against the table, but he merely places them on the table on either side of his hips. “My name’s Jason.” Roy frowns for a moment. He used to know a Jason, a long time ago. If he’d gotten the chance to grow up, he might’ve even looked like the man in front of him. “So am I going to be stuck calling you Hawkeye, or will you give me a proper name to call you?”

“Hawkeye _is_ the proper name to call me.” Roy tells him, eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Why were you at that warehouse tonight?”

The man- _Jason_ \- shrugs. “I was just passing by, saw you snooping around, and got curious.”

There’s something about his story that rings false to Roy, but he can’t pinpoint it. There’s nothing in his statement that screamed improbability, even the gun could be justified if this guy was paranoid enough to carry a gun around at night. Maybe it was the fluidity of his movements when he was shooting and dodging bullets, or how _bored_ he looked during the whole thing, but either way Roy wasn’t buying it.

“I think,” Roy speaks slowly, watching for any movement from Jason, “that you’re full of shit.”

Jason stays where he is, his only movements being his eyebrow rising and his mouth moving into an “O” shape before he grins. “Well then, _Mister_ Hawkeye. What do _you_ believe my reasoning for being there tonight was? Apart from saving your ass of course?” Roy clenches his teeth in frustration before opening his mouth to respond but Jason puts a hand up to stop him. “Besides, what does it matter? It’s not like you can arrest me or anything. You don’t have any evidence that I’ve done anything illegal, and you don’t work for the police. Hell, I’d wager you don’t work for any sort of law enforcement agency.” He stands up now, walking over to Roy slowly with his hands calmly by his side. Roy’s hand tightens on the compacted bow and his other hand loosely grabs hold of an arrow. He lets it go once Jason stops a few feet in front of him; close enough to make Roy’s arrows useless, but far enough to give Roy the chance to react before an attack.

“I’ll ask once more. Why were you at that warehouse with a gun?” Roy grits out. He doesn’t like being cornered and the energy the man in front of him giving off is making Roy anxious.

Jason finally loses the grin, his face falling into a mask of neutrality as he stares at Roy. After a moment of tense silence he finally speaks. “For the past few days I’ve been watching to see who would investigate Vladimir’s death. I figured that whoever went looking for his killer would be working with him, or at least working for whoever he _was_ working with.”

“Why do you care?”

Jason glances away, towards the exit then towards the nightstand only a few feet away, before settling his eyes back on Roy. “Their businesses are unsavory to say the least, and I want to get ahead of them to stop their latest endeavour.”

“Which is?” Roy presses, inching to right, moving himself between Jason and the nightstand. Just in case.

“Why does it matter to you? Did you know him personally, or were you just interested in who killed him? Because if it’s the latter, you may as well leave now.”

“Was it you?” Roy asks. The man just raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, as if he didn’t understand what Roy was asking. Roy thought that was telling in and of itself; this Jason wasn’t an idiot, he could gather at least that much easily enough. “That killed him.”

“No.”

The response is monotonous and falls easily from his mouth. Either he really didn’t do it, or Jason was just a _very_ good liar.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

Jason’s tongues pokes his cheek and his eyes squint in annoyance. “Why’d you ask then?” Roy opens his mouth to reply but doesn’t have a good answer. Did he really think he’d openly admit that he killed Vladimir? “Besides, if I had I would’ve left you for the men who shot at us, or, hell, maybe I would’ve killed you myself.”

“Fine, fine okay.” Roy waves his hand between the two of them before pressing it to his mouth. “You said some of his business was _unsavory_. What was it that was worth murdering him for?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Depends, are you asking because you’re so intent on doing a job well done, or because you want to help stop it?”

“Bit of both I guess.”

Jason grins dangerously. “If you actually mean that, there’s a coffee shop three streets over from here. Meet me there at 10am sharp and we’ll talk. And-” he gives Roy an obvious once over “-you should probably wear civvies.”

“Look,” Roy starts, edging away from the wall and closer to the exit, “I don’t agree to things without knowing what I’m getting into.”

“Then I guess I won’t see you tomorrow.” He shrugs, turning his back on Roy and stretching his arms above his head. “You should be good by now though, those men are either gone or have given up by now.”

Roy hears the dismissal and the chance to leave, but hesitates for a moment, watching the man in front of him. He backs out to the door, waiting for something to happen; for Jason to pull a gun and shoot him, or maybe ask him to stay to talk more, but it’s obvious that if Roy wants any more out of this man he’ll have to meet up where Jason said tomorrow morning.

He opens the door, scanning the parking lot quickly before making his way back to the warehouse and from there back to his hotel, watching for street signs to tell him where the hell to go tomorrow. When he gets back, he strips out of his gear, leaving gauntlets lying around but making sure his bow and arrows are tucked neatly back into its case. Everything around Roy may be a mess, but at least he keeps his weapons in order where he can’t do the same with his life.

He sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he assesses his options. He can go meet up with Jason tomorrow and find out what’s going on around here, maybe get a step closer towards finding the Black Widow, or he can call Oliver up tomorrow, tell him what he currently knows, close the case and go home. As appealing as home sounds though, something doesn’t sit right in Roy’s stomach about leaving a job half done, and a trained assassin on the loose. Roy groans and stands to grab his laptop. If he’s going to go ahead with working with Jason on this, he needs to do some quick research on him and maybe call Dick up to discuss a dead boy named Jason that they used to know.

Hours go by and Roy gets sucked into calling a couple other contacts he can trust with sensitive information like this, namely Bruce, and only gets even the barest hints that something like what Roy’s dealing with isn’t entirely impossible from Jade. He doesn’t get much though, just a murmured “I’ll ask around” and a promise that she’ll keep in touch and that if Roy gets hurt on whatever he’s doing and can’t care for their daughter properly, she’ll gladly steal her away herself.

He crashes at around four am, setting numerous alarms to make sure that he wakes up with enough time to decide whether or not he would meet up with Jason again. He pulls himself out of his bed at eight, and decides that he’s going to go. He showers, gets dressed, makes sure his phone doesn’t die but keeps it in the hotel room anyway. On his way out the door he hangs the “do not disturb” sign on the door to hopefully keep any nosy maids out, and heads in what he hopes is the correct direction.

Roy had shown up ten minutes early, his anxiety forcing him to sure he was at the right place before the deadline, but Jason was already there, halfway through his first coffee. When he saw Roy he smirked and told him he figured he’d show. Now, Jason grins from across the small table and over his coffee cup. “So, can I get an actual name to call you? Hawkeye’s a little awkward to call out out here.”

Roy purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at Jason. “Fine. You can call me Roy.”

“ _Roy_. Is that your real name?

“What, you think I’d give you my _real_ name?”

“Well you do look kind of like a Roy.” He sits up a little bit straighter, and Roy watches his eyes flicker around their surroundings, settling on a couple people for brief moments before moving on to the next.

“Doesn’t mean my name’s actually Roy though.” Both of Roy’s hands are wrapped tightly around his mug as he takes a sip. He knows it isn’t the best position to be in if a fight were to break out, though he supposes he could always just hurl the piece of ceramic at the enemy before drawing his pistol, but he didn’t want Jason to see how nervous he was in that moment. Not only did his research last night yield him with no answers, which was unsurprising without a last name to go off of, but he felt naked out in public so early in the day without his mask or bow. He’d debated bringing it the bow with him, but trying to keep the arrows concealed would’ve been more annoying than useful, and as well as he could use the bow as a blunt weapon, he was hoping he wouldn’t get into a situation where he’d need to hit someone over the head with it this morning.

“Sure, whatever you say Roytoy.” Roy tenses at Jason’s muttered words but says nothing as the other man continues to scan the area.

“So are you going to tell me what the hap is fuckening now or…?”

“There.” Jason nods his head towards someone behind Roy. He glances over his shoulder to see a large man sitting down at the table to the left of them and pulling out a newspaper. When Roy turns back to Jason he has a small smirk on his face. “He was my secondary lead before Vlad was killed. Vladimir was working the sales and drugs end of the operation. This guy, Samuel Jones, works more in the inner circle.”

“Alright,” Roy replies slowly, watching Jason more than Samuel, “but the inner circle of _what_ exactly. Drugs? Because that’s hardly a new problem and I doubt it needs both of us on it.”

Jason waves his hand at Roy. “Vlad dealt with the drugs and getting people into the rest of the business, meaning what Sammy here deals with are the people.”

Roy sits back in his chair fully, turning to look at the man engrossed in his paper again. “Human trafficking.”

He sees Jason nod out of the corner of his eye. “So here’s the deal: it’s a big operation. Sammy here is an American, and my intel has him linked with multiple human trafficking rings in the States as well, making it international, but to an unknown extent.”

“And we can’t take him down until we know just how big this whole thing is,” Roy mutters under his breath.

“Precisely. But not even just on the level of how many people are in on it and how many countries they do this in, but we also need to find out the extent of their bullshit. Right now I know they’ve got their hands in trafficking people, drugs, and guns, but there could easily be more.” Jason leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “He’s the current mark. If we can follow him, we should be able to find some of his other partners, or hell, maybe even their base of operations.”

“I highly doubt he’d just wander over there midday. But I guess it’s worth a shot.” Roy says, turning back to face Jason as Samuel moves to stand up.

“Good. Let’s get going then.” Jason shoots him a grin as he stands, downing the rest of his coffee.

Roy stands too, fishing his hat out of his pocket and throwing it on with a sigh. He turns to start following Samuel from a safe distance, Jason falling into step by his side.

“That hat is horrendous,” Jason mutters.

“Bite me,” Roy replies, pulling the brim further down his face.

They tail him for an hour without incident. Samuel walks downtown, periodically stopping in little stores or at stalls on the street, Jason and Roy stopping a ways back every time. He does nothing of any relevance to either of his tails, and Roy begins to get bored. He starts by humming quietly under his breath but Jason glares sharply at him somewhere in the middle of Highway to Hell and he stops after that. Then he moves on to kicking things, little pebbles, pieces of trash, but the sidewalk is relatively clean where they are and if he keeps up trying to kick everything in their path he’d look too suspicious. He starts bouncing slightly after a while; someone could mistake it for pep in his step but Roy was just trying to do _something_ so he doesn’t lose too much focus on the job at hand. His arm brushes Jason’s and the other man sighs and steers them into a small cafe across the street from the store their mark entered.

“Is this because of the coffee?” Jason asks under his breath as they get in line.

Roy shrugs, glancing back to make sure Samuel hadn’t left the small store yet. “Just bored, trying to keep focussed.”

Jason’s eyebrow twitches as he steps up to the barista at the register. She takes one look at Roy and gives an inaudible sighs in defeat, her mouth forming the words “Can I take your order” hesitantly before Jason steps in and replies in Russian. She immediately perks up and places their order, says something else to Jason before smiling slightly at Roy. “My English isn’t so good, I prefer speaking Russian.”

Roy smiles back at her and nods, reaches for his wallet, but Jason’s already paying and then they’re moving to the side to grab their coffees. “She said there aren’t many tourists who come down this way,” Jason says, catching Roy still watching her. “Anyway, you plan to stay focused by distracting yourself?”

Roy shrugs again, pouring an indecent amount of sugar into his coffee. “Either my mind wanders or my body does. It’s easier to keep mental focus if I’m moving. Or music, music helps me focus too but we eliminated that one pretty quickly.”

Jason purses his lips as the two of them linger at the entrance to the cafe, watching their target still moving about the inside of the store. “That was AC/DC, right?” Roy nods, tapping a little rhythm on his styrofoam cup. “Alright, just, yeah it’s fine. Don’t get distracted.”

Roy glances over at Jason, head tilted to the side. He doesn’t trust the man, he doesn’t have any real reason to, and for all he knows Jason could’ve been the one who killed Vladimir. And it isn’t exactly as if Jason giving him the go ahead to hum was _kind_ or anything, but slightly considerate at the very least.

“Time to get going,” Jason says, breaking the silence as he pushes off of the wall to continue down the street as Samuel makes his way out of the store.

They follow him without further comment for a while longer before he starts turning down side streets, away from the main road. Jason seems excited by the prospect that they might finally be getting somewhere but after a while he turns down an alley and Roy gets a bad feeling almost immediately.

“Shit, he’s made us,” Roy mutters to Jason, trying to get the other man to slow down.

“Fuck, you’re right, but we can’t turn _now_ ,” Jason hisses back, trying to tug his arm from Roy’s grip.

“Look at him,” Roy shoots back, “his head’s tilted like that because he’s listening for our footsteps. He shoved his hand into his pocket a minute before turning down this alleyway, chances are he’s got a gun and he’s just trying to lead us deeper into the alley so that he can question us. Or just straight up shoot us without anyone seeing. We have no _choice_ but to turn back now.”

Jason slows finally, wetting his lips as his eyes flicker across the alley before he scans the rooftops and fire escapes above them. “Yeah okay. We’ve been made, I got that part, but that doesn’t mean it’s over for us yet.”

“Yeah, because we should turn _back_ -”

Roy is cut off by Jason shoving him into the side of the building. He tries to move away but Jason’s hands tighten their grip on his shoulders as the other man watches their target slow down until he’s stopped in the middle of the alley. “Fuck.”

Roy doesn’t have the chance to react as Jason’s lips are suddenly on Roy's, one arm coming up to rest against the wall next to Roy’s face. Roy half glares at the wall over Jason’s shoulder, but does his part by wrapping one arm around the other man’s neck, his hand resting uncomfortably in his hair while the other wraps around his waist. Roy hears a faint cough from behind them and begrudgingly acknowledges that this is _one way_ to deflect attention or suspicion of following someone.

They’re not really kissing, just making it look like they are. And yeah, maybe their lips are pressed against each other, and _maybe_ they’re moving a little bit to make this believable, and _maybe_ they’re making some noises associated with a good old fashioned make out session, but this doesn’t count as one.

Roy narrows his eyes to the point where it would look like they’re closed as he hears their mark walking briskly past them and back onto the main sidewalk. Roy shoves at Jason’s chest the moment he’s out of sight and the other man steps back easily, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Sorry, needed to think fast.”

Roy purses his lips but shoves past him to get back to tailing Samuel. “Usually I’m not a first date kind of guy, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

The two men continue to watch Samuel Jones for hours but he does nothing of relevance. Roy is annoyed but used to this; stakeouts have always been his least favourite job. He’d much rather confront his target, but understand that that isn’t always how it goes. Jason seems more frustrated than him, however. It’s dark by now, and after an uneventful day, Samuel is back in his apartment doing absolutely nothing it seems. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. Roy was hoping for better results too, but to him Jason seems antsy about how things have gone but won’t explain why to Roy.

When it was finally dark, Roy told Jason he was going to circle back and grab his gear, and one taxi ride and an hour and a half later he was back with Jason. Armed with his compact bow and his quiver slung over his back and a domino mask shoved into his pocket, he feels more comfortably prepared for a confrontation.

They’re in the apartment building across from their mark, one floor up and one suit to the left. It was the only empty one with the view they needed, and Samuel certainly didn’t seem to care much for privacy if the fact that al his blinds were up said anything.

Roy sighs and glances over to the door to the attached balcony. Through the small window he could see Jason, smoking his, by Roy’s count, fifth cigarette of the past three hours. He looks agitated and Roy makes the decision to swing off the windowsill and join Jason on the balcony. He can deal with his own anxieties, but Roy’s never been good at dealing with other people’s.

Jason says nothing to him as he pulls another drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out, turning his head so the grey cloud doesn’t go into Roy’s face. Roy, for his part, plucks the cig from his companion’s fingers and pulls a drag himself. Jason says nothing, just watches him for a moment before going back to glaring at the apartment with their mark in it. Jason had apparently already been in there and had bugged the whole place. No cameras because those would be easy to spot, but if Samuel got a call or left the apartment, they’d know.

Roy takes another drag from his stolen cigarette, before releasing the smoke slowly. “Not how you thought tonight would go, Jaybird?”

Jason tenses, but doesn’t turn to look back at Roy. “What’d you call me?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just a nickname for someone I used to know,” Roy supplied, waving him off even though he knew Jason couldn’t see him. “Answer the question.”

“I was hoping for more,” Jason tells him quietly, eyes never leaving the lit up living room where they both knew their mark was. “Either the whole organization is trying to keep Vlad’s death on the down low, or he wasn’t nearly as important as I thought he was.”

Roy hums in understanding as he looks back into the apartment. There’s no furniture, not even anything for staging purposes, so he’s hoping that something comes up so he doesn’t have to take shifts watching some guy and sleeping on the floor. “Tell me about him.”

Jason is silent for a moment. “Not much to tell. Samuel Jones, American, 43, single as far as I can tell, and doesn’t give a shit about anything but money. That’s his own apartment, he splits his time between here and New York most of the time. I’ve heard he has connections to the Falcones in Gotham, but I’m not entirely certain.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jason mutters.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But you’ve gotta give a little, man. You asked for my help, but I’ve gotten nothing from you in terms of reasons to trust you.” Roy takes a final drag before offering the cigarette back.

“I didn’t _ask_ for your help. I told you you could help me if you chose to,” Jason replies indignantly, taking his cig back.

“Tell me something about you. Is Jason even your real name?”

“Is Roy yours?” When he’s met with silence, Jason finally tears his eyes away from the apartment to look at him. “Fine. Jason’s my real name. Happy?”

“If you’re so secretive why would you give me your real name?”

Jason shrugs, turning his whole body to face Roy and leaning his back against the balcony railing. “A first name isn’t much use without a last or any other information about me. What? Are we playing Twenty Questions now?”

Roy smiles a little. “Where are you from?” Jason’s eyes go cold for a split second, and it’s gone so quickly that if Roy’s eyes weren’t so good he’d miss it. “Fine, then. Just tell me _something_ about yourself.”

Jason is silent for a moment, his mouth twisted as he contemplates what to tell him. “I do ballet.”

“Really?” Roy raises an eyebrow at that. He takes a moment to check Jason out and he still doesn’t look like what he envisioned a ballerina would, too tall, too thick with muscle, not lithe like a dancer usually is.

He just shrugs. “I trained at the Bolshoi for a few years. Apparently I’m a _natural_.” He says ‘natural’ with a small grin and the flutter of his eyelashes and Roy chuckles slightly. “Not good enough to perform there or anything, but I still practiced.”

Roy bites his lip to suppress a grin at the image this brings to mind. “Alright. What else is there to know about you?” Jason says nothing, but tilts his head to the side as if to say _“depends on what you want to know.”_ Roy bites his lip, trying to think of the best way to glean information out of the man in front of him. “Any siblings?”

“Not really.”

“Not really? How does that work?”

Jason glances around, almost like he regrets not just saying no. “We were both wards of the same man. Not really brothers, he wasn’t around much while I was there, and then I left. So not really.” Roy hums in response. “What else would you like to know? My bank information? Perhaps my social security number?”

“Aw Jay, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you weren’t having a good time talking to me.” Roy gives him a lopsided grin and Jason huffs in response.

“This is boring and a waste of time,” Jason tells him, glancing over his shoulder and then back to Roy.

“I can think of some more fun things to do to spend the time,” Roy says with a grin, wiggling his eyebrows.

This gets an honest to God chuckle out of Jason and Roy starts. He didn’t expect for any sort of real reaction from the guy. “Why don’t you go sleep or something? I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

Roy sighs and shuffles back into the living room as Jason finishes off his cigarette. “My idea was more fun.”

Roy stretches out on the floor of the living room, pillowing his head with his arm. He won’t sleep of course, doesn’t trust Jason, doesn’t trust that they’re safe. And besides, he’s used to pulling all nighters. He does however, allow his body to relax as he stares up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he laid down, but soon enough Jason’s calling for him and he meanders out onto the balcony to see the lights in the apartment going out. Jason nods to him and the two leave the apartment together.

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone lived in that suite.”

Roy clenches his eyes shut at the voice behind him. She sounds old, with a thick Russian accent, possibly someone’s grandmother, definitely causing problems.

“Oh, we only moved in the other day.” Roy hears Jason supply, turning himself to smile at the, yep, kindly looking grandmother halfway into her apartment. “We hadn’t gotten around to introducing ourselves to the neighbours yet.”

“Oh that’s quite alright. I’m Paula, and what are you young men doing going out so late?”

“I’m Roy, and this is Jason,” Roy responds calmly. “Our friend had an emergency so we’re just heading over to check on her.”

Jason nods, throwing his arm around Roy’s shoulder and steering them towards the stairs. “We really need to get going, she’s in bad shape last we heard. It was nice meeting you Paula!” Jason’s voice echos slightly in the stairwell as they race down to the ground floor and out into the night. “You just had to give her our names,” Jason mutters, jogging over to the other side of the street where they can make out Samuel’s retreating form under the streetlamps.

“I doubt she’ll remember them, anyway,” Roy responds quietly, zipping the jacket he’d thrown on over his uniform and quiver all the way up and shoving his hands deeper into its pockets. He looks over at his partner in all of this, collar turned down, zipper only half up, and yet he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the cold air. Roy opens his mouth to say something about it, but decides against it, instead focusing on their mark as he hugs close to the shadows before stopping at the end of the street.

At first Roy had thought he’d made them again, but he just stands at the end of the street and waits for a few minutes before a black car pulls up. And he moves to get inside.

Jason swears and Roy takes a cursory glance at their surroundings, sprinting across the street as the car begins to pull away, towards a motorcycle parked in front of an apartment building.

“You ever drive one of these?” Roy asks as he drops to his knees, skidding a little and he can _feel_ the threads covering his knees tearing as he gets his hands on the bike.

“Yeah, but I’ve never hot-wired one before,” Jason tells him.

Not a moment later the bike roars to life and Roy grins triumphantly up at him. “Good thing I have then, yeah?”

They say nothing else and Jason and Roy both hop up onto the bike, Roy sliding on behind Jason, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist, the other gripping his shoulder as they race off to follow the car.

The streets are dark and there aren’t many cars on these side streets and soon enough they catch up to the car, or at least Roy _hopes_ it’s the right one. They stay two car lengths behind them, but it’s obvious that they weren’t anticipating anyone following them. After a while Jason turns off the headlight and Roy swears that if he gets killed because of a fucking motorcycle accident he’s going to haunt _somebody_. As they go, buildings become farther and farther apart and there are less and less cars on the road. Eventually the car with their target inside makes a turn down a side road and towards a warehouse.

Jason and Roy stop the motorcycle and get off, making their way over to the building on foot. “It’s always a warehouse,” Roy mutters under his breath as they crouch out of sight along the perimeter of the building.

“I’ll go in, you scout and make sure no one else comes in,” Jason whispers, lurching forward to run towards the building but stopped by Roy’s grip on his arm. “What?” he hisses.

Roy eyes him from the shadows. This is dangerous and he knows it. The chances that the man in front of him is the man he’s been sent to take care of are getting increasingly higher as Roy spends time with him. “Why are you so keen on taking them down?” Roy asks quietly.

Jason takes a sharp breath from his nose, jaw clenching as he goes. “It’s the _job_ dipshit. I was hired to deal with this, so I’m fucking dealing with it. What’s your sudden problem?”

“You’re going to kill them.” It’s not a question, but it isn’t a sudden realization either. While Roy knows that taking the people in the warehouse out is the only way to end their business, Roy can’t allow Jason to go in there and shoot up the place. For all he knows, this whole “business” could be a ploy by Jason to get Roy to help him. But what could he possibly need Roy for? He hasn’t done anything that Jason couldn’t have done alone, hell he probably made it harder for him. So why?

“There are _real_ people in there, and you’re going to let them get sold off to who the fuck knows, all because you don’t trust my methods?” Jason sneers and there’s something about the _almost_ hurt,  the _almost_ unbelieving, and the total condescension in his voice that’s so uncomfortably familiar there and Roy _knows_ . “Besides, _hero_ , it’s not like you’ve never killed anyone before.”

“I’m going in with you,” Roy tells him, looking around quickly before sprinting into the shadows of the building, hand still around Jason’s bicep.

“Don’t trust me, Hawkeye?” Jason mutters, voice chilling as he wrenches his arm out of Roy’s grip and follows him towards one of the side entrances. “Security is thinner than would be expected. Something’s wrong.”

“A trap?” Roy asks just before a guard rounds the corner. Jason’s arm wraps around his neck, the other gloved hand covering his mouth. The man scratches at Jason’s arm in vain before passing out and being dropped to the floor.

“If it is, this guy didn’t get the memo.”

They move silently from then on through the corridors, keeping their eyes out for signs of life: either that of guards, or of prisoners. They find nothing until they reach a large room where their original mark and a couple other men are standing, discussing something quietly.

They slide back into the corridor, hidden from sight. “So what’s the plan? Find a way up into the catwalks and take them out quickly and quietly, or just walk in guns blazing?” Roy asks, voice low.

Jason leans his head around the corner, before slowly turning back to Roy and cracking his neck. “Guns and arrows blazing,” he says with a grin. “Samuel needs to stay alive, but I don’t care about what happens to the rest of them.”

Roy doesn’t like the sound of that, but shrugs off his jacket and expands his bow. He watches Jason pull out two handguns from his waistband before raising an eyebrow and sprinting into the room. Roy swears quietly, shoving his domino mask onto his face before notching an arrow and swinging around the corner, sprinting further into the room as he goes.

More men have appeared, bodyguards of sorts who weren’t allowed to listen in on the conversation at hand are now firing down from the catwalks and various other entryways. Two of the men who were speaking are lying on the floor in pools of their blood while the others are hiding behind various forms of cover, some shooting back, some doing nothing. Roy looses an arrow into one of the men above him, sinking into the arm holding his gun. Roy doesn’t stop, just  notches, aims, and shoots another arrow into the chest of a man getting too close to where Jason’s running through the room. Roy watches out of the corner of his eye as Jason hits the ground, sliding on his knees under the arm of a man holding a knife before he’s pitching forward, hands hitting the ground as his leg comes out from under him, kicking at the man’s legs and knocking him to the ground. He glides to his feet, not even looking as he shoots the man in the chest and taking off again, heading straight towards where Samuel and another man were hiding out. The only thoughts running through Roy’s head are a slew of curses as he swings his bow around, shooting another guard down. One of the few remaining men from the original group pops up over the crate he was hiding behind, shooting at Jason. He ducks out of the way, spinning on his toe and throwing something towards the man. Whatever it is hits home in the man’s throat with such force that he falls back, blood already seeping out around it. This split second was all the Samuel and the other guy needed, and when Roy looks over after shooting another bodyguard down, they’re sprinting out of the room.

There’s only one or two guards left, but Jason’s chasing after their mark and Roy can’t lose him now. For whatever reason Roy just _knows_ that if he lets Jason get away now, he’ll never catch up with him again, and he’ll have to call Ollie up and explain that, yeah, he found the Black Widow, chilled with him for a day and a half, and then lost him in a warehouse. So Roy notches one of his last arrows and aims for Jason’s back, loosing the arrow just as one of the remaining guards crashes into his side, knocking his bow away.

Roy doesn’t have the time to see if his arrow hit its mark, but the sound of metal skidding across the floor and a shout of “What the actual _fuck_ ” tells him he didn’t as the man grappling with him tries to punch Roy in the throat. Roy hears a gunshot and sees the last guard hit the ground out of his peripheral vision as he shoves his current target’s head down and into his knee, kicking him in the chest for good measure, watching as he hits the ground.

Roy panics, he wants to run for his bow or maybe for cover, but he’s in the middle of the room at this point and Jason is running at him. He braces for the impact of the inevitable punch or kick, but the other man isn’t broadcasting his move so Roy just prepares for whatever. He wasn’t, however, prepared for the larger man to jump at him, wrapping his thighs around Roy’s head.

Time seems to slow down as Roy realizes what’s happening. The pressure of Jason’s thighs is squeezing his throat and Roy can’t breathe, and the momentum of it is pulling him down anyway. As blackness creeps around his peripheral vision, Roy vaguely thinks that he wouldn’t mind having these thighs wrapped around his head if the circumstances were different.

He feels a laugh bubble up in his throat but he doesn’t have the air required to let it out.

Time finally seems to go back to normal, and Roy hits the ground, hard. Jason swings around, back on his feet and pulling out a gun and aiming it at Roy’s head.

“Y’know,” Roy wheezes, “there are easier ways to get my head between your thighs.” Jason raises an eyebrow. Roy _swears_ that for a moment there was the hint of a smirk on his features. Roy takes a moment to breathe and sober up. “Jason. Jason _Todd_ , right?”

Jason tenses, aim not wavering. “How do you know my name?” His voice is low, dangerous. Maybe Roy hoped that the past day they’d spent together might’ve been enough for Jason _not_ to shoot him, and maybe he knew deep down since the moment he saw him, that this was _the_ Jason, and hoped that that meant something, _anything._ But, deep down, Roy knew that neither would be of any help to him.

“We used to know each other. I’m friends with Dick, we worked together. You’re telling me you don’t remember me at all?” Roy watches the gun pointed at his face as he slowly sits up, watches as it rises with him, always aiming at his forehead.

“I-” Jason hesitates, eyes flicking away from Roy’s for a moment. “There are a lot of things I don’t remember.” Roy slowly starts to rise to his feet, keeping his eyes on the finger on the trigger. “Roy.” His name is uttered so quietly Roy almost doesn’t notice it. “Harper?”

“So you _do_ remember me.” Roy tries to smile softly at the other man, just wants him to put the gun down, lower it at the very least.

“Not really.” Jason wets his lips slightly, looking as if he’s trying hard to remember something, _anything_. “I remember your name. I remember... Dick. And I remember he knew you. From Haly’s Circus? You… Fuck what did you do?” His eyebrows lowered over his eyes harshly. “You threw knives, shot arrows mostly.” He tilts his head back and forth a little bit, as if that’ll jog his memory. His eyes widen slightly, before he sighs slightly, blinks harshly once. “That’s why they called you Hawkeye.”

“You remembered all that, yet you didn’t recognize me? I’m hurt.” Roy considers moving closer to the other man, but Jason’s scowl keeps him in place.

“I don’t generally assume anyone knows me these days. I’m just a ghost _,_ _Roytoy_. I died and-” he pauses, licking his bottom lip, a small swipe of the tongue. His hand is shaking slightly, but quickly steadies it again. “I died and I didn’t come back right.”

“We can fix this.”

“It’s not broken, Roy, it just is.”

“That sounds like fucking bullshit man. Let me help you. Fuck, dude, Dick was a wreck after you died, he’ll be bouncing off the goddamn _walls_ now that you’re back.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Jason near _growls_ , his face contorting in anger. “Don’t talk about him, don’t talk about _any_ of them. Not in terms of me, not when I know they didn’t give a shit.”

“Jaybird-”

“And don’t. Call. Me. That,” he grits out, both hands clutching the gun aimed at Roy’s head. “That’s not me, I’m not some little kid anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right, you’re not. But that doesn’t mean either of us have to die,” Roy says, palms out, inching forward slightly and stilling again.

Jason laughs, bitter, angry, and unfriendly. “Really? Was that what you were thinking when you _shot at me_?” Roy grins sheepishly, but Jason is undeterred. “Those men need to die, but I needed to get some information first. Now, though, now you both need to die.”

Roy nods his head, moving forward again until Jason’s gun is pressed to his forehead and he licks his lip quickly. “In the wise words of you, it’s the _job_ dipshit. My job was to investigate the death of Vladimir and if the killer was the Black Widow I needed to take him out. So I took the shot.”

Jason’s face immediately closes, gets cold, his eyes empty of all emotion. “Now you’ve really done it Harper.”

Roy sees the small twitch in Jason’s finger and takes the moment to swing his arm up, catching Jason off guard as Roy twist Jason’s arm and his own body, kicking Jason in the ribs as he wrenches the gun from his hands and throws it clear across the room.

Jason stumbles back, and Roy dashes off to grab his bow, kicks it up and grabs it, swinging  around to notch an arrow but Jason’s already running at him again. Roy learned his lesson, decided that he didn’t want to be in that position again, and this time runs at him too. He drops to the ground right before they would crash into each other, his knees bouncing off of the hard ground and he _knows_ he’ll regret doing that later. For now he swings his bow, hooking it around Jason’s legs, sweeping them out from underneath him. Roy rolls out of the way and to his feet as Jason hits the ground with a thud on his back.

Roy stares down at Jason, final arrow aimed at his heart. Roy clenches his teeth, glancing up to see Jason’s eyes. They’re full of resignation and only the slightest traces of fear and Roy’s heart skips a beat. Jason may be an adult now, early twenties at least, but he’s still a _kid_ . Messed up, damaged, and with a kill count _definitely_ higher than Roy’s, but still a kid. Roy swears under his breath, lowering his bow slightly.

“What’s the matter, Harper? Not gonna shoot little ol’ me?” Jason probably tries to hide the catch in his voice but Roy hears it, lowers the bow a little more. “Thought killing me was the whole reason you flew to the other side of the world.”

Roy works his jaw slowly, watching Jason for a moment longer before putting his arrow back in its quiver and putting his bow away completely. “I’m making a different call.”

Roy hears a growl in warning before Jason surges up and knocks him down, the younger man landing on top of Roy. “You sure that’s such a good idea, Roy?”

“No,” Roy groans out. His back hurts, his knees hurt, he’s pretty sure he hurt his bow while knocking Jason down, and he feels like an idiot. “But either you’re going to kill me now, or we’re both gonna limp the fuck out of here, take a fucking nap, and hunt those two assholes down and take care of them. Together.”

Jason leans back slightly, his legs straddling Roy’s chest and pinning his arms down. He looks distrustful but not like he’s going to immediately kill him. “Black Widow’s are not meant to be driven by emotion; we were trained to be cold and clinical, to kill without remorse.” Roy watches him carefully. “Everything you just mentioned… Will we be doing all of that together? Because I’m not gonna be the fucking little spoon.”

“You for real?” Roy asks as Jason slowly pushes himself to his feet, tentatively reaching a hand down to Roy. He accepts it, getting to his feet. Their hands stay clasped, held up between them as they maintain eye contact. Jason’s eyes are firm but uncertain, distrusting of Roy completely, though seemingly willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah.” His voice is slightly shaky but his hand stays steady in Roy’s. “Yeah, I’m taller than you anyway.”

They’re both silent for a moment, but then Roy cracks a smile and then he starts laughing and Jason follows shortly after, even though it isn’t _that_ funny. Roy’s chest hurts quickly after he starts but he can’t stop laughing, the adrenaline still running through him, the ludicrousy of the situation, and the fact that Jason is laughing just as hard along side him aren’t lending him any help in stopping.

They both calm down after awhile, Roy with tears in his eyes, and drop their hands. “Let me… let me grab my arrows.” Roy wanders off, pulling arrows out of the guards, checking the pulses of the men who took non-lethal shots. He knows it’s redundant, knows that unless paramedics get here within a few minutes, they’ll all probably die of bloodloss anyway, but he feels that he needs to check. He doesn’t get all of his arrows back, a couple are broken, a couple others are stuck in people above him and he doesn’t feel like climbing up there when he has more arrows in his hotel room.

His knees are killing him when he makes it back to Jason, the adrenaline wearing off. Jason looks calmer too, a stamped out cigarette by his feet. His eyes flicker up to meet Roy’s as he nods. They say nothing as they make their way outside, back to where they left the motorcycle. Roy gives him the address of the hotel he’s staying at and Jason nods, revs the bike, and they shoot down the quiet streets and back towards uncertainty.

They reach the hotel and Roy directs Jason to the alley that his room is facing and park there. Roy throws his grapple up onto the balcony and climbs his way up to the second floor. He doesn’t wait for Jason to climb up, he knows he’ll follow, knows that with Jason’s skill if he really wanted Roy would be dead quickly. Roy ambles over to the bed, begins booting his laptop up and checks his phone. Three missed calls from Dick but no voicemails; either whatever he was calling about wasn’t important enough to warrant it, or too important to risk it.  Two missed calls from Oliver and two voicemails, but Roy doesn’t care enough to check them since they’re probably just him asking for progress reports. Strangely enough, he has a missed call and voicemail from Bruce, and he listens to it as Jason walks in and looks around. He gestures towards the bathroom and Roy gives him a thumbs up, looks at the blood on his clothes. “There might be something in that duffle over there that’ll fit you if you wanna shower.” Jason scowls, but after a moment of hesitation picks up the duffle and carries it into the bathroom.

All Bruce wanted was an update on the situation and to know if it was really _Jason_. Roy considers calling him back to explain, but when he hears the water in the shower he remembers the venom in Jason’s voice when Roy mentioned Dick back in the warehouse and thinks better of doing it now.

He checks his texts and finds one from Jade simply saying “Yes.” Roy chuckles at how straightforward she is about the situation, not bothering to elaborate on how “yes, it’s possible that some kid that died has come back from the grave.” He shoots back a text telling her that he found out it was possible on his own, thank you very much, and that he was fine so he’d get to keep Lian.

He checks the time and figures that Jason spent some time rummaging through his shit before actually showering, not really minding since he would’ve done the same if presented with the chance.

A couple minutes later he hears the bathroom door open, but when he glances up his breath gets caught in his throat. “Nothing in the duffle fit.” Roy nods absently as he bites the inside of his lip and tries to keep his eyes on the laptop screen in front of him instead of Jason dripping wet and with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “What, no innuendos this time? You had plenty earlier.”

Roy lets his eyes slowly lift up to Jason, lingering on various parts of his chest before meeting his eyes. He has a smug grin on his face as he leans against the doorjamb. “Is that to mean that you’re taking me up on my earlier offer, then?”

Jason ducks his head down, his white streak fanning out over his forehead and Roy _swears_ he’s blushing. “No, I’m not.” Jason’s looks back up at him and he’s smiling slightly. He turns back around and heads into the bathroom, emerging a couple minutes later wearing the jeans he was wearing earlier and one of Roy’s baggier sweaters. Baggier on Roy at least, it’s fit snugly against Jason’s chest, probably more on the tight side, but at least now he’s less distracting.

“Thought nothing fit?” Roy smirks.

“I lied,” Jason shoots back. “Just wanted to see what you’d do.” He sits down on the bed next to Roy, just as he finishes and sends off an email to Dick. He closes the laptop and sets it aside, the two of them silent for a few moments before Roy speaks up, sobering up.

“If Vladimir wasn’t the target, why’d you kill him?”

Jason is silent, doesn’t answer for a while before he looks up from where he’s sitting, a bitter sneer on his lips. “He was sampling the new merchandise.”

“But why him?” Roy presses, voice quiet. “There are plenty of scumbags who deal with human trafficking, you could’ve killed a client or someone but-”

Roy is cut off by Jason’s sharp laugh. The bitterness is gone from Jason’s eyes, now he just looks angry. Dangerously angry. “You don’t get it, Harper. The new merchandise him and and all those fuckers were thinking about stocking up on? Kids. And that disgusting excuse of a man was the one who was finding and picking them up. So I killed him. And I’m not sorry.”

Roy says nothing, doesn’t know what to say, except he _understands_ and he’s suddenly angry and disgusted. He doesn’t understand why Oliver would _care_ about this guy, what he could’ve _possibly_ had to offer him. “I wasn’t going to ask you to apologize,” Roy decides on, and Jason looks over at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Not for something like that.”

After a couple more minutes of silence, Roy sighs. “Get some sleep, we’ll track those bastards down in the morning.”

He moves to stand, but Jason’s hand wraps around his arm, keeping him next to Roy on the bed. “How… How is everyone doing?” His voice is so soft that Roy almost can’t make out what he’s asking.

“They’re… alright.” Roy weighs his words, trying to figure out exactly what Jason wants to know. “I wasn’t lying when I said Dick was a mess when you died, but Bruce was even worse.”

“I was told he _replaced_ me.”

Jason’s voice is bitter and hurt and Roy takes the chance to shift around and shove Jason around so that they’re facing each other on the bed. “He didn’t replace you, man, he couldn't. You died and he was a fucking disaster. I was never close with him, wasn’t around Gotham unless it was because Dick needed someone around. They both blamed themselves for your death. Bruce wasn’t fast enough, Dick wasn’t around enough, they both wore themselves ragged trying to… I don’t fucking know, atone? Then this kid shows up, follows Bruce home, claims he knows he’s the Batman, knows Dick’s Nightwing, knows that Batman needs a Robin and he just decides that _he’s_ gonna be him.” Roy pauses, let’s Jason absorb what he’s saying before he continues. “I’ve met the kid once or twice. Dick tells him about you, Bruce less so but he still does. You’re a _legend_ to the kid.”

“Don’t feel like much of one,” Jason mutters, flopping onto his back on the bed. “‘Specially since the clown’s not dead.”

Roy shrugs. “If I were in Gotham more, I’d take him out.”

Jason pushes up onto his elbows and frowns at Roy. Opens his mouth to say something, closes it again. Drops back down. “You want to know what happened to me, right?”

Roy twists his mouth at the change of subject. He’s never been one to enjoy talk that has anything to do with emotions either, but he feels like this is a conversation that needs to be had at some point. He does want to know though, so he hums in agreement.

“I just woke up one day. I crawled out of my grave and I was lost. Guess the clown hit my head harder than I thought, but I was basically a zombie- both in the fact I’d come back to life and in the fact that there was basically nothing going on up there. It was weird, I have… vague memories from that point but a lot of it is like time skips. Like I remember digging my way out of the grave, and then I remember being in Blüdhaven, that sort of thing. Eventually someone picked me up off the street, and the next thing I can vividly remember is being in the Pit and _wishing_ I was dead again.”

“The Pit?” Roy asks quietly. He has a sinking feeling he knows what he’s talking about, but a guy can hope for the best.

“The Lazarus Pit.” Roy breathes softly out of his nose. Jade’s told him about it, he _knows_ . “I stuck around there for a while, but after awhile of training, they sent me away to here. It’s almost funny, they sent me to what they called the Red Room, they train little girls to become spies there. For whatever reason they accepted me. I was sixteen and they taught me espionage, how to fight, how to be _lethal_ , something Bruce didn’t teach me. It’s funny because they call me the Black Widow, but I’m not the only one, hell I’m not even sure I should be called one. Regardless I left a couple years back, turned freelance, and now here we are. I haven’t been to Gotham since I died.”

“And now you have a cute little accent to match your new career,” Roy says, trying to lighten the mood a little. Jason cranes his neck around on the bed to look at Roy but just huffs out a short laugh. “What’re you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Jason asks, thickening his accent and Roy knows for _sure_ he’s teasing him.

Roy frowns. “Are you going to keep up being freelance, killing for God knows who, or are you gonna go back to Gotham?”

“Why the _fuck_ would I go back to Gotham?” Jason sits up fully now, scowling. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“You have a family.” Jason’s face darkens and Roy hurries on. “You guys are all messed up and you have a lot to talk about but _fuck, man_. Bruce and Dick? They love you, and they would want you back if they knew. I’d kill for a family that cared that much.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes move to something else, and they soften before he closes his mouth and looks away. Roy looks down, sees that his track marks are visible. “Oliver was a dick about that, right?” Jason asks softly.

Roy laughs. “That’s a bit of an understatement.” He looks back up at Jason, looks for the pity he always gets when people see his tracks, that or the _judgement_ , isn’t sure he knows which is worse. “He kicked me out. Shit hasn’t been the same since even though I’ve been clean for a long-ass time.”

Jason nods. “Guess we’re just two fucked up peas in a pod then.”

Roy snorts and turns to flop down onto his back next to Jason. “Guess so.”

They’re quiet for a while and Roy closes his eyes, feeling calmer than he has in a while. “Y’know,” Jason murmurs, breaking the silence, “I was lying earlier. I’ve never done it before, but I’m pretty fucking sure I’d be the little spoon. And if you ever repeat that information, remember that I’m a highly trained assassin and I _will_ kill you.”

Roy laughs, and he doesn’t know why it’s as funny as it is, but his back is arching off of the bed with his laughter and Jason is grinning at him and muttering about how it really wasn’t _that_ funny. And then Roy is flipping over and landing on top of Jason on the bed, his loose hair framing both of their faces. Jason’s still grinning but it’s smaller, slightly confused as his hands reach out to Roy’s waist to steady him. “It’s good to see you all grown up, Jaybird.”

Jason looks surprised for a moment, but then he surges up, lips pressing against Roy’s for a moment, before his head hits the sheets below him. Roy stares down at him, dumbfounded for a moment before he leans down and kisses him softly, elbows coming down to rest on either side of Jason’s head. It’s slow and sweet, but messy and uncoordinated. Roy’s plenty experienced, but Jason seems frustrated at his own inexperience, his nose bumping into Roy’s, their teeth clashing, his mouth following Roy’s movements but slower and less skilled. Roy pulls back and bites Jason’s lower lip before pushing himself up above Jason entirely, pushing down on his chest when Jason tries to follow him. “Little spoon, huh?”

Jason frowns, but Roy can see the twitch at the corner of his mouth as he tries not to smile. “Yeah, what of it, Harper?”

Roy hums as Jason tucks some of Roy’s hair behind his ear. “You’ve never done this before.” Jason’s cheeks go red and Roy bites back a grin. “That’s not a judgement, by the way.”

Jason looks away and Roy tilts his head to follow him. “I died when I was fifteen,” he mumbles. “And then I was training with various groups of assassins. Wasn’t much time to _practice_.”

“That’s fair,” Roy supplies, smiling at Jason’s scowl. “You’re having a good time though.”

Jason coughs up a laugh, rolling his eyes. “That’s a dumb question. Kissing is… nice.”

Roy doesn’t say anything, just kisses him softly again before pushing up and rolling off of the bed. “We both need to sleep. We’ll look for Sammy and Co. in the morning.” Roy flips the lightswitch, the only light coming from the early dawn filtering in between the curtains. Roy turns around to see Jason stripping down to his boxers before getting back into bed. Roy follows suit, slipping in behind him, molding himself to Jason’s back. Jason shifts around, obviously unused to sleeping next to someone else. Roy wraps his arms around Jason’s chest, presses his lips to the back of his neck. “Just _sleep_ , Jaybird.” He stops moving around after that, and soon enough Roy falls asleep.

When Roy wakes up, the bed is empty beside him and he sighs. He should’ve guessed Jason wouldn’t stick around for long. He sits up in the bed, shoving his hair out of his face as he squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It reads nine am, meaning that he’s been asleep for at least four hours, and Roy decides that with some coffee that’ll be enough. He gets up and has a quick shower, drying off and throwing on a pair of sweats over his boxers before checking his phone. He hasn’t missed anything, so he pulls out his laptop and does some looking for where a Mr. Samuel Jones could be at. He’s checking to see if his mark might’ve bought a plane ticket when he hears the lock mechanism of the door open. He pulls his pistol from the bedside table, aiming at the door. Jason shoves the door open with his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as he looks at Roy. Roy sighs in relief, both because it wasn’t an intruder, and because Jason stayed.

“I got breakfast,” Jason says, handing Roy a coffee and dropping down onto the bed beside him. He has a bag in his hand and retrieves a box from it, trading it for Roy’s laptop. Roy grins when he opens it and sees doughnuts. He bites into one and leans back against the headboard as he lets Jason use his laptop. “Samuel isn’t the brightest from what I’ve gathered, so if he hasn’t already bought a plane ticket, he’s probably back at his apartment.”

Roy nods. “Wanna scope it out?” he asks around a mouthful of doughnut.

A nod. “We can head over whenever, but the sooner the better.”

Roy nods, rolling off the bed. “Let me get dressed and then we can go.”

“You’re not gonna stay shirtless?” Jason asks, grinning.

Roy laughs, digging through his duffel for suitable clothes. “I’m sure you and many others would appreciate it, but I have no intention of freezing to death today.”

He gets dressed and grabs some gear before the two of them start walking in the direction of Samuel’s apartment. “Roy, about last night…”Jason trails off, biting the inside of his lip.

“What? Don’t tell anyone? Because you’re one big, tough, assassin?” Roy grins. “It’ll be our secret Jay.”

“Just for now,” Jason replies quietly.

Roy tilts his head, not really understanding what that’s supposed to mean but doesn’t push it, hopes it means that Jason’s considering what he said about going back to Gotham but doesn’t want to jinx it.

“Anyway, it’s gonna take a while if we try to walk the whole way,” Jason says, pausing on the sidewalk. “Think you can hotwire a car fast without anyone noticing?”

“Um, duh?” Roy says, reaching into his pocket for his lockpicking kit, and dropping down to make quick work of the lock on the car Jason paused next to. He opens the door, ducking under the dash to play with some of the wires before the car roars to life. Roy smiles, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for Jason, and the two of them speed their way to their destination.

When they arrive at the building, they stay in the care for a few moments before Roy asks, “Do you know the suite number?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna just go up and confront him?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of them walk up to the door. Jason presses some random numbers into the panel at the door and luckily someone answers. After a short conversation in Russian, the door buzzes and Jason holds it open, sweeping his arm out for Roy to enter. They enter the elevator and Jason presses the button for the for the tenth floor.

“Do you think he’s there right now?” Roy asks as they wait.

“Not sure, but it isn’t impossible,” Jason says, stepping forward and boxing Roy into the wall.

“You enjoy this.” It’s a statement, not a question. Roy does to an extent too: enjoys a job a well done, likes the thrill of having a mark and making them do what you need them too.

Jason hums, leaning down and kissing Roy. Roy stands there, content to allow Jason the chance to figure out what he’s doing. There’s less teeth this time, but it’s still uncoordinated until Roy reaches up and gets his hand in Jason’s hair, directing his movements until the elevator shudders and the doors open, the pair stepping out quickly, mind focused on their mission once again.

Jason takes point, walking towards a door at the end of the hallway. He tries the doorknob, but pulls back when the door doesn’t give. “Locked. Wanna pick the lock, or do we kick the door in?”

“Dealer’s choice.” Roy pulls his gun from the waistband of his pants as Jason shrugs, takes a step back and kicks the door. It swings open, Roy’s gun trained at the space over Jason’s shoulder as the other man recovers, and then the two of them are rushing in.

They get through the hallway and are about to turn into what should be the living room when Jason pushes Roy’s shoulder back as he turns towards him, a gunshot echoing through the apartment. The bullet takes a chunk out of the wall next to Jason’s head.

Jason waits for one more shot before he lurches forward, shooting his gun quickly and by the loud swear Roy’s sure he hit him. They turn into the living room, and Jason grabs Samuel’s arm and pulls the gun out of his hand before shoving him into the wall.

“We don’t have a ton of time together Sammy, so we’ll have to make this quick. Where’s your next auction being held?”

“Fuck you,” the man spits and Roy rolls his eyes as Jason punches him in the nose. “You think that hitting me is gonna help?”

Jason’s grin is wolfish when he turns to Roy. “Sammy and I are going to have a talk, but the police will probably be here soon, so you wanna look around for something that’ll have information on it?”

Roy raises an eyebrow and turns to look through the few rooms in the apartment. In the bedroom he finds a laptop and what looks like a planner. Roy can hear grunts of pain and the sounds of impacts from the other room as he flips through the planner, deciding that that along with the laptop would be good to take with him. Moving through the other rooms he doesn’t find much, and then he’s back in the living room where he sees Samuel with blood dripping down his chin and Jason digging his thumb into the bullet wound. “Hey babe, check his pockets for a phone or something?”

Jason turns and narrows his eyes at Roy, presumably at the pet name, before removing his hand from the shoulder and digging through pockets until he finds the phone. He tosses it to Roy who wipes the blood off of the screen on the couch. “Hey Sammy, what’s the password?”

“If I tell you,” he chokes out, wincing as Jason’s arm crushes into his windpipe, “you’ll get him off of me?” Roy shrugs, nodding slightly. He’s not entirely sure he’d be able to, and he knows that he could hack the phone easily enough, but it would be a hell of alot easier to just get the password out of him. “Okay, it’s 3-9-2-4. Now get him off.”

Roy doesn’t even have to say anything, just puts in the password and the iPhone clicks open and Jason steps back. “When and where is your next auction?” Jason asks, voice hard and cold.

Samuel takes a moment to catch his breath, wiping the blood from his face off on his sleeve. “I don’t know the details until right before. I get an email, you see,” he starts slowly, eyeing the two of them, “but from what I know, it’ll be sometime next month in Gotham.”

Jason straightens up at that, grilling him more for details that he doesn’t have. Roy hears the sound of sirens getting closer and he tells Jason as much. “Guess it’s time to go then, pleasure doing business with you, Sammy.” Roy watches as Jason quickly pulls his gun again and shoots his mark in the face. He turns away as the body crumples to floor, mouth twisted in disdain. Roy knows that killing people is what Jason does, hell, it’s what _he_ does if he doesn’t have much more of a choice, but he doesn’t enjoy it.

Neither of them say anything as they race out of the apartment and down the stairs. They stop at the second floor and decide to camp out there for a while until they figure they police leave. They walk down the narrow hallway until they turn down a second corridor, out of eyesight of the elevators and away from the doors and sit across from each other.

“Your hand is covered in blood,” Roy notes, just as Jason’s about to run it through his hair. He pulls it back and grimaces, tries to wipe it off on the carpet but to no avail. “What are you going to do now? Job ain’t over unless it was all about Samuel the whole time.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, just stares at the wall past Roy’s head for awhile. “If I went back to Gotham, specifically to finish this, would you go with me?” His voice is quiet, almost timid, and he’s still not looking at Roy.

He shrugs. “My homebase is Star City anyway, I wouldn’t mind. Especially if we didn’t go into Gotham until strictly necessary.”

Jason worries at his lip, finally looking at Roy. “And… if I wanted to try to contact Bruce and Dick, maybe meet the replacement, definitely reunite with Alfie, would you be there?”

“If you’re sure you’d want me there, definitely.” Roy says empathetically. When Jason says nothing and looks away again, Roy pushes up, before falling back onto his knees in front of where Jason is sitting. He can hear the sounds of heavy footsteps on the staircase, even from here, and the sound of the elevator moving past this floor and higher up. “Why me, Jay? I’ll be there for you, one hundred percent. But why me? Is it out of convenience or what?”

Jason turns to him a laughs a little, and Roy pushes back offended. “You now, I had a really awkward crush on you.”

“What the fuck?” Roy gets out, half choking on a laugh and half on his own saliva.

“Yeah, it was kind of stupid. You were Dick’s circus friend that Oliver Queen picked up, but you were so _cool_ and _smart_ and I was fifteen,” Jason says, smiling shyly. “And I couldn’t believe I didn’t immediately recognize you, or your name, but then again the Red Room was good at making you forget, especially since there was already so much missing from my past. But then here you were, and you didn’t break my nose for kissing you, and-” He cuts himself off with a shrug.

And Roy sits back on his heels contemplating the man in front of him. “I guess you were a cute kid,” he muses. “But you’re definitely better looking now,” he adds with a wink.

Jason rolls his eyes and pushes himself to his feet. “Come on, we can get to the first floor and head out the back way. By now there won’t be enough police around to be much of a problem.”

Roy shoulders him into the wall and leans up to kiss him. He pulls back slightly when he feels Jason’s arms move and whispers, “If you touch me with your bloody hand I’m not going anywhere with you,” against his lips and suddenly Jason is laughing and so is Roy, but then they’re kissing again, and Roy’s so goddamn _happy_ that he went against Oliver’s orders this time around.

“C’mon Jaybird. We have a long road to Gotham ahead of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> This took me so long to finish thanks to everyone who supported me and actually thought I could do this


End file.
